


"I wrapped our love in all this foil"

by MoxFirefly



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: AU, Blood, M/M, Mild Language, Sexual Content, Violence, mox/bray, wybrose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-21
Updated: 2016-01-22
Packaged: 2018-05-15 07:28:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5776864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoxFirefly/pseuds/MoxFirefly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>It comes to him when he can feel the blood leaving the gash on his head, drops hitting the canvas to a rhythmic <em>tap, tap</em>. Bray's charging at him slamming into him and leaving him gasping. The pain shoots through him but it comes in the shape of euphoria, his mouth parting as Bray digs his fingers into the wound causing more blood to ooze out. Moxley can't help but arch his hips ever so slightly, he catches Bray's smirk from the corner of his bloodied eye.</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. "Silver tight like spider legs"

**Author's Note:**

  * For [resonatingkitty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/resonatingkitty/gifts).



> A au in which Bray runs into Moxley in the indies. Just a sudden little idea.
> 
> Gonna try and write a part two for it, probably from Bray's pov. So yes, two shot.

It's a bloody affair, and Jon Moxley wouldn't have it any other way.

Bloods always been a way of life. Crusted and dried under his nails, stains that tell stories. A language all to familiar for him, fighting's been the only logical answer to half his problems.

The other half, well, booze is there and so are pills.

Little white devils sticking to the back of his throat.

Bray Wyatt happens to be the same effect, and ironically the cause. Bray's a pill, medicine that helps and yet poison that kills.

Jon doesn't remember how they met, gun to his head he'd say somewhere along the indies. Spooky guy shows up talking riddles and singing songs to the rejected underbelly that cruises these parts of town. Jon's sure about one thing, one day locking up with him. He feels a tingling that shoots through his veins and leaves him goosebump ridden.

_You're gonna fuck me up bad, huh?._

It comes to him when he can feel the blood leaving the gash on his head, drops hitting the canvas to a rhythmic _tap, tap_. Bray's charging at him slamming into him and leaving him gasping. The pain shoots through him but it comes in the shape of euphoria, his mouth parting as Bray digs his fingers into the wound causing more blood to ooze out. Moxley can't help but arch his hips ever so slightly, he catches Bray's smirk from the corner of his bloodied eye.

Blood's mandatory, don't forget that.

It's somewhere in the back of the shitty broken down building that Mox has his first taste of Bray. Lips trying to tear his own off, blood and spit and the promise of release. Mox can feel everything heighten to a trembling decimal, _up the intensity level_. Mox isn't shy when it comes to the fucked up things he likes. He all but nearly breaks his lip biting it when Bray wraps a hand around his throat. His eyes flutter shut when the other licks up his neck, blood and sweat on the tip of Bray's tongue and it feels right to let this freak fuck him in this very uncomfortable dirty room.

Mox grabs a fistful of brown locks and tugs, attaching his lips to Bray's neck and leaving bruises scattered there. Bray chuckles nonchalant, letting Mox have a go at him. Teeth sink, tongue laps and Bray has to admit, he's getting painfully hard at this point. He manages to shove down Mox's bloodied jeans, the blond kicks them off and tries to even the playing field by tugging Bray's shirt off. "Lube?" He mutters into the kiss, Bray shakes his head and kisses back possibly harder than the last time. 

He doesn't want to admit how many times he's gotten a pair of fingers roughly shoved into his mouth, but this time around he's actually more for it. Bray makes quick work of his trunks, trowing them somewhere in the little room. Mox busies himself with pushing Bray's blood stained pants down.

He's prept, not so delicately but it'll suffice, for now all Mox cares about is Bray lifting him up and thrusting into him.

And that he does.

Mox isn't sure if its the blood loss making him woozy or this whole ordeal. Cause Bray's kissing his neck and whispering all those tell tale neurotic notions. They burn his skin, or so he imagines it. Swears up and down he's being burned from the inside out, somewhere along it all Bray isn't even speaking english. 

And he's so fucking sure, this is the first time anyones fucked him with an abandon he didn't know was possible. Just like being torn apart and put back together, just like chugging handfuls of pills and just feeling everything and nothing at all. Mox wraps his legs tight around Bray, arms as well. Bray's nails dig into his thighs, scratching up towards his ass. He's fixated, Mox notes, His lips are going everywhere they possibly can. 

It's when he presses his forehead against his own that he feels even dizzier. Bray's staring right into him, _fucking_ through him. It's intrusive, more personal than this very act they are partaking. Bray's thumb runs over Mox's lower lip and he says something. " _Assez..._ " Dean gulps down a moan, eyes fluttering shut and just accepting Bray's lips on his own.

He doesn't remember the last time he came this hard in his life.  
_______________________

Moxley's tapping up his battered hands. He's twitchy and pent up, ready for another day of blood. Some kid lets him know his fights soon, tells him is against Wyatt.

He nods, dismissing the kid. He punches his palm, testing the grip and can't help but smile to himself.

"He's gonna fuck me up bad." He mutters to himself.

A sick little thrilled shoots through his veins again.

_Good._


	2. "I will blow your heart to pieces"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pt. 2, more so from Bray's perspective.

The chair feels light in his hands, noticeably so he's sure it doesn't feel that light when it comes crashing onto Jon's back.

Bray lets out a little giggle, lifting the chair again and slamming it down on Mox's back.

_Again._

_And again._

Mox groans out in pain, fist banging on the mat in order to rile himself up and work through the pain. For Bray, the moment he saw Jon Moxley he knew there was something nesting in that boys soul. Some so nefarious that he could taste when ever he got the chance to kiss the other man. Bray sits astride him, that trusty fork that Mox loves to carry in his possession now. He can't help but laugh as he digs into the head of Mox, the blood gushes, stains the tips of his fingers and Bray swears Mox goes through his pores and likes to sway inside of his very being.

These types of games aren't for everybody. What Bray has found in Moxley is both a blessing and a gift. 

_My favorite toy_

After the match, when the white noise clears and people are chanting he allows himself the moment to bask. Mox is laid out, blue eyes looking up at the lights. Bray stands and takes in all the energy, runs his tongue over his bloodied palm and grins at the horrified sounds of the crowd. 

_It's good to be king_  
______________________

It's one of those dingy bars, the ones with questionable backgrounds mingling in and out. People who _stray_ like to quench their vices here. Bray's only her for one little reason, little Mox likes to quench his vices in places like this. Truth be told he likes watching the other man, the way he carries himself, how much Jon's eyes speak volumes of the things nesting in his head. Moxely is fascinating to Bray, and when Bray is fascinated its never a good outcome.

He hasn't touched his drink, never was one for them but it keeps him busy in the mean time, He flicks the top of the small straw, the brown liquor makes him think back to his younger years. Bitter long days filled with one too many wounds.

Bray looks up to see Mox coming in, hands stuffed in the pockets of his hoody. He looks dazed and out of it, like he hasn't slept. Bray makes sure to burn a hole in his head and once Mox has his beer in hand he turns to look over at the empty table, save for Bray. Theres a million things that Bray can see in his eyes, the hesitant step forward and then back, a swig of his beer and the eventual giving in as he walks towards the table. Mox doesn't ask just plops himself down on a seat, fingers fiddling with the base of the beer bottle. "You're like the plague, huh?" Mox reaches into his pocket with his other hand. "You know I thought you're just an act, guess you're the real deal when it comes to the shit you spew." He pulls out a pack of Pall Mall's and a lighter. "You're the act here." Bray watches as Moxley pulls a cigarette with his mouth from the box and lights it. "Im chalking it up to my head wound, but on another day I'd be kicking the shit out of you for that little comment." He exhales into his already empty beer bottle, the ashes go in as well. "Perhaps I phrased that wrong then, you're act isn't a bad thing darlin. Just your way of protecting yourself, isn't it?" Bray's drink it watered down by now, Mox can't help but think what a waste of good liquor.

"Why you here if you ain't drinking?" Moxley motion to the bartender for another beer. He shakes off more ashes, trying his best to ignore how Bray is staring at him like theres nothing else in this fucking place to stare at. "Was hoping to run into you, darlin." Mox smirks, shaking his head. "When the fuck did I get a pet name?" Theres an edge to his fingers and weirdly enough the cigarette isn't doing much to calm it. Bray's hand rests on Mox's for a few seconds and he can tell that the edge is off, the slight tremble not there and it's too weird for Moxley to want to understand so he's quick to move his hand away. His beer arrives and he makes sure to chug half of it down. "Nasty little demons in ya." Bray's voice is hushed but Mox can focus on it and not the mess in the bar. "You need to kick before they start to really take full command of you." Bray runs a finger of the other man's wrist and Mox swears the skin welts, or maybe its the lighting in here. "You wanna fuck me again?" He balls his hands, cigarette long finished now and his hooded eyes on Bray's. 

Bray tilts his head just so, mesmerized.

Jon Moxley is so mesmerizing.

 _I want to consume you and spit you out_  
______________________

Bray wants to chalk it up to an obsession, a tick that sticks much like the many he has. There really isn't any other explanation but he wants to keep Mox. It's not about seeing what's destroying him, not entirely about fixing him either.

Just to keep him.

Have him at arms length.

To smell that ever sweet blood of his when they _play_.

Bray ins't sure how long its been, maybe a month or so? They've been going from shitty hotel to shitty hotel. Four walls, a roof and their clothes. He's pleased to learn that Moxley is an insomniac much like himself. Bray sticks to the bed, book in hand while Mox lingers on the windowsill, ashtray between his legs and sun bouncing off his shoulder. A Tournament of Death is coming up and he scheduled for it, Bray hasn't said if his in the card. He tosses the bud out the window, the creak of the bed signals him of the other's approach. Bray runs his fingers over the frizzy mess that is Mox's hair, lightly scratching the scalp. "What's our next shitty town to visit?" He barely flinches anymore when Bray kisses the side of his head, there isn't no more shakey fingers too. "Indianapolis, we can leave in the morning." Bray keeps playing with Mox's hair, letting him rest against his side as he continues to do so. 

It's familiar, oddly comforting and he senses that Mox has many questions but either doesn't want the answers no or not all to begin with. Moxley stands and pulls him over to the bed. He climbs in and lays down, eyes fluttering closed as Bray settles between his legs. "Lets _kill_ some time then." Mox says, softly more so under his breath and Bray leans down to kiss the spot where his heart is and kept help but smile against his skin.

Skin that'll be opened up soon.

Bray's hands run down the other's torso, coming to rest on his waist. He takes Moxley in, the feel of his bare skin, how warm he is. He kisses him, demanding but slow enough to make Mox's skin flush. 

He feels nails on his arms, hips buck up at him and the hours melt away so easily.

 _So mesmerizing_.


End file.
